


the resoloution of all the fruitless searches

by nikmood



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, George Lucas is a grumpy bitch, Mark Hamill ships carrison hardcore, RPF, imaginary party in a vague point in time, miss you space mom, my imagination created this to work through some shit, this is why i can't have nice things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 01:16:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9212963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikmood/pseuds/nikmood
Summary: Birthday Party at George's and everyone's coming!  And by everyone, we mean Carrie and Harrison, and their dump trucks full of issues.  Are they leaving the party unscathed or will the two finally have it out at a black tie event full of photographers?  And when did Mark become a fucking Svengali?Disclaimer:  None of this happened.  I need a hobby and sleep.  And not to have hot flashes at my age.  But this totes is from my warped imagination, and no disrespect is intended.





	

George was having another of his epic birthday parties and had demanded my appearance. I grudgingly agreed to come, only because I knew if I didn’t the damn man would send a car for me and call incessantly like I was an errant nineteen-year-old again. Also, I didn’t think he’d be there, but I was stupid enough to hope. My mind might finally know better but the heart will always want what it wants.

I walked into the ballroom and my eyes scanned the crowed, looking for a safe face. _Shit, I really wish I could have managed to bring to Garry_ , I thought. But I somehow don’t think he’d match my outfit. And, I had to admit, I looked as put together as I didn’t feel. Red satin knee-length dress, matching pumps, matching lips. I didn’t see anyone I felt like talking to, so I went to the bar to grab a mineral water. Noticing some studio exec heading my way, I discreetly made a beeline for the patio and took my cigarettes out of my clutch. Naturally, my lighter wasn’t fucking working. _Great_ , I sighed mentally. No reprieve from people and no smoke break. This night can’t get any worse.

A callused hand deftly removed the cigarette from my lips, lit it, and replaced it. “Carrie, why is it you have never has a working lighter in all the years I’ve known you?” a gruff voice said.

Harrison. Of fucking course he’d actually show up. I might ache to see him, but it doesn’t mean I’m prepared to. Time to woman up, Carrie, and throw the quips around.

“Oh, you know me. It’s a good way to meet men. Play the damsel in distress, it appeals to their egos.” I really shouldn’t have said that.

He narrows his eyes slightly as he pockets his lighter. “So that’s how you’re spending your time now? Nice.” He spat out.

“Fuck you, Harrison. How I spend my time isn’t your concern. Do us both a favor and go dance with your wife. Sorry I don’t remember her name, but you go through them so quickly,” I said, smiling my best Princess Leia smile. _I just went way too far._

Closing the distance between us quickly, Harrison pressed me up against the cold marble column and looked down into my eyes. I met his back in defiance, a game we had been playing since well before our first kiss. “It’s funny, Sweetheart. You look at me dead in the eyes, like you would like nothing more than to skin me alive. Yet, your whole body is shaking. Your pulse is almost jumping through your skin.” Then bending down slightly, he proceeds to lick the length of my neck, stopping at the hollow of my throat where he bites down, just a little too roughly.  
“And you, Ms. Fisher have never been a damsel in distress.” With that, he turned sharply and went inside, the lively party sounds swallowing him whole.

I stare after him, glassy eyed and panting. Well, it’s not like it was the first time I’d had an orgasm at one of George’s birthday parties. I chugged my mineral water and tried to do my visualization exercises. I knew the smart thing to do would be to wish George happy birthday, hopefully find Mark and stick by his side for thirty minutes or so, fake an emergency, and leave. But I had no idea when would be the next time I’d get to see Harrison, so I would stay. And we would play.

Walking back into the party was disorienting. It was loud, bright, and hot. God, I missed drinking. Booze would be ideal right now. I was actually staring at the bar fondly when I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist. I stiffened until I felt a voice in my ear say “Space Twin Powers activate!” I laughed loudly and twirled around. “Mark!” I exclaimed delightedly as I kissed both of his cheeks. “How have you been?”

“Good, good,” he said as we sat down at a small table. “You look smashing, as always, and- **JESUS**!” Mark yelled.

“What?” I asked, hoping he hadn’t drawn attention to us.

“What happened to your throat?”

“Oh, mosquito bite. I must have rubbed the cover up off.”

Mark reached for my hand. “Carrie, I love you like a sister. If you’re gonna go there again, go there for keeps. Neither one of you can take being broken by the other again. After all these years, why don’t you two try talking first and then debasing yourselves?”

I arched my eyebrow at him. “Farmboy, what do you know that I apparently don’t?” I asked with a tone of warning.

“Go. He’s over there pretending not to look at you.”

I turned to where Mark pointed, and son of a bitch if he wasn’t right. Harrison was leaning up against up a wall, trying a little too hard to look everywhere but over here. He still took my breath away though. His bow tie was slightly askew, but it didn’t matter. He looked like a movie star no matter what he was doing. Everyone always watched him. They loved the way he talked and the way he moved.

For me it was the different parts of him. How incredibly grumpy he was until he had at least three cups of coffee in the morning. The creases on his forehead as he slept. The way he sang quietly as he was doing carpentry. How his hands felt in my hair. The way he would let me paint his toenails. Watching him stalk through a set or a party or a house looking for me.

God, I’m getting mushy sitting here thinking and Mark is looking at me like I’ve had a stroke. “When you’re right, you’re right, Marky,” I said lightly. “But if one or the both of us ends up setting this place on fire tonight it’s on your head.” I stood up and kissed him on the forehead, using my thumb to wipe away the trace of lipstick.

Harrison saw me walking over to him, my head held high. He stared at me with an unreadable look in his eyes and that damn lopsided grin on his face. I reached where he was standing entirely too soon for my liking and offered him a smile as a peace offering. “Look, Harrison. I took bitch about fifty-seven steps too far earlier. I apologize.”

His eyes softened. “I would say, based on a culmination of our past, I more than deserved that, but thank you for the apology, Carrie.”

I scoffed, trying to remain lighthearted. “Hey, the past is the past. Bygones. I was wondering if you would like to talk sometime? Maybe hash everything out in an adult manner so future meetings don’t always begin and end with us trying, or succeeding, to try and kill each other and or jump each other’s bones? It can be in public, private, phone, email, with a chaperone, whatever you prefer.”

When Harrison looked at me his expression was one of pain. “What I want,” he said amidst the applause and cheering of the party, “is to dance with you.”

“Huh?” I said, completely confused.

He held out his hand. “Dance with me, Princess. They’re playing our song.”

I followed Harrison out to the middle of the dance floor, where he wrapped his arms around me and we began to sway together on instinct. I looked up onto the stage to see what the big fuss was about, and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head when I saw Mick Jagger.

Then I knew.

There could be only one song we were dancing to, one song that he would actually refer to as ‘our song’.

“Wild Horses”.

I immediately stiffened in Harrison’s arms, and tried to wiggle free.

“Please,” he murmured, “just dance with me Carrie.”

“I can’t believe you would make me dance with you, to this song, after all these years, in public,” I whispered as I tried not to cry.

“Would you believe I’ve just gotten sentimental in my old age?”

I scoffed.

“Then believe that I needed to dance with you to our song, and in public.” He dipped his eyes down and saw his handiwork, swearing a blue streak under his breath. With a tenderness I hadn’t seen in a long time, he bent his head and kissed his way down the column of my neck until he reached the bite mark, which he gently kissed and licked until what once was a brand of his anger and dominance was now a mark of his affection. If I didn’t know better, I would swear that Harrison was claiming me as his in the middle of George’s huge birthday party. But I do know better, and I should probably remind him that we aren’t exactly alone.

“Babe,” I murmured, running my hands through his hair, “as much as I’m enjoying this, and believe me, I am, you should probably stop. This place is packed to the gills, and there are photographers floating all over.” I hate being the rational one. _Fuck my luck sometimes._

“Don’t care,” he muttered petulantly, “gotta make it up to you. Now shhh.”

And I’ll be damned if the son of a bitch didn’t start to sing in my ear.

I know I dreamed you a sin and a lie  
I have my freedom but I don't have much time  
Faith has been broken, tears must be cried  
Let's do some living after we die  
Wild horses couldn't drag me away  
Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday  
Wild horses couldn't drag me away  
Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them some day

“Thank you very much!” Keith shouted. “That song was for the Jailbait and her Jackass!” Those that were at that original disastrous party screamed up a storm, remembering the inside joke. The remainder looked around and clapped loudly anyway. I blushed about as red as my dress. “I am going to kill whoever had the brilliant idea of having The Stones play tonight,” I muttered as I tried to slink off the dance floor without anyone noticing.

I made it outside to where there was a small table sitting between two luxurious looking chairs. I saw a familiar profile sitting there and sank into the overstuffed leather chair tiredly.

“Long night?” Harrison asked as he reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He lit two and handed me the first.

“Thanks. It’s been a long life. Do you want your publicist or mine to handle tonight?”

He took a deep drag off of his cigarette and stared at me. Then softly, Harrison said “Neither.”

This is obviously the night for hallucinations. “Har, c’mon. One of us has to have our people handle it.”

“Why though?”

“How about you are a deeply private person? How about you have a wife?” I ask with exasperation

Calmly looking at me, Harrison replies “I don’t give a fuck about being a deeply private person right now. And I’m single. It seems when you finally get your head out of your ass about being in love with a tiny spitfire, you want to do stupid shit like hold her hand and go to the Farmers Market, or kiss her on a dance floor, as soon as possible. And that tends to lead to you filing for divorce.”

I am now convinced I really did have a stroke earlier, and I’m dead. I would have given anything to have heard this from Harrison since I was nineteen…but somehow it feels lacking. I pull my hands into my lap. “It’s great for you that you’ve had this revelation. But what if I’ve finally moved on? What if after all these years I made my peace with there never being a Carrie and Harrison?” I literally feel like I’m going to vomit.

Harrison has blanched. “You should move on. You should have run from me the first time I looked at you. Christ, Carrie! I am a fucking bastard. Just look at tonight!”

I sighed and outstretched my arm to squeeze his hand. “I’ve been trying to move on from you since the minute I saw you. I just don’t quite seem to know how.”

“Same here, sweetheart.”

“So, let me see if I understand.” I took a moment to try and compose myself so my emotions wouldn’t come spilling out like verbal diarrhea. “You actually had feelings for me dating back to the stone ages of when we first met. But we basically fucked around and have had the world’s longest one-night stand, where in true stereotypical form the woman falls head over heels and the man acts like an ass. You say you loved me…but you basically refused to be seen in public with me unless it was work related. You married other women. How does that work?” I asked him softly, looking down at my hands.

“I couldn’t marry you. I was a shit husband. Couldn’t keep it in my pants,” Harrison tried to laugh. “Okay, that wasn’t funny. And for the record, after I met you, there were no other women for me. You have ruined me for the rest of humanity.”

“Sweet talker. I need to know why you could marry other women but not me.” I said, my voice sounding more than a little broken. 

“You scare the hell out of me, Carrie. I just-“

I felt my eyes well up hot tears. “That’s just a fanfuckingtastic thing to hear. I’ve got the asshole I’ve unfortunately been in love with since I was nineteen sitting across from me, and he finally tells me he loves me after all these years. But when I ask him why he could be with other women, marry other women, but not be with me, he tells me that I scare the hell out of him.” I chuckle bitterly as I stood up and wipe away the tears that had fallen. “You’ll have to forgive me if I say fuck you once more and go home to my dog, who is more kind than you could ever dream of being. I don’t ever want to see or hear from you again.” I walked over to the patio door, anxious to get home and finally start putting this huge piece of my past, and my heart, behind me.

I had made it about halfway through the ballroom when Mark caught my eye. I just shook my head no and smiled sadly at him. Poor guy has been through the wringer with Harrison and I over the years. Maybe now his ulcers can calm down. Suddenly there’s a commotion near the stage. Great. I have got to get out of here before The Stones go back on.

“When I said you scare the hell out me, what I mean is that you know me so well. No one gets me like you do. There is no hiding when I’m with you, as much I would like to pretend otherwise. So I married other women. They were…they were a slice of bakery cake for dessert. You are Baked Alaska. You are literally on fucking fire and so special I thought I could only have you once in a while.

“But I’m getting old and I’m tired of lying to myself. I’m tired of only telling you that I love you when you’re snoring and drooling a little bit on my shoulder. I love you, Carrie. I love you when you’re grumpy. I love you when you’re a little manic and you’ve been writing for two days straight, surviving on only Diet Dr Pepper and wasabi almonds. I love how you take care of everyone around you. I love how you’re plotting my death right now for embarrassing you. I love how you baby Gary. Most of all, I love how your voice sounds first thing in the morning when you kiss me and tell me about the dream you had the night before. And I want to spend the rest of our lives telling you all the things I love about you, occasionally in very public and slightly inappropriate settings. Happy Birthday George! Without you, this situation could never have happened!” After that, Harrison took a deep breath and just stood on the stage, looking at me.

I am going to fucking kill him. Everyone here is looking at me and whispering. Why did I decide to wear red satin tonight? To get Harrison’s attention I thought. I cleared my throat quietly. “Get down and come home, jackass. Garry’s going to need to be walked soon.” And like that, Harrison was walking towards me with a twinkle in his eyes. We headed for the doors when the regular band began playing “This Will Be Our Year”.

Harrison put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in close to him. “Your skin is even softer than this dress. Did you wear red satin for me?”

Pulling him down for a lengthy kiss in the doorway, I smiled. “Maybe. Did you conspire with my Space Twin tonight?”

He played with a lock of my hair that had fallen loose, giving me one of his rare full grins. “I have possibly been conspiring with the kid for a very, **very** long time.”

“I love you, Harrison.”

“I love you too, Carrie.”

Behind us, I could hear George yelling that Harrison and I were permanently uninvited from anymore of his events. What a pity. Guess we’ll have to use that time making love and being disgustingly happy.


End file.
